


The Cub

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-05-05
Updated: 1999-05-05
Packaged: 2018-11-11 01:11:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11138259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived atDue South Archive. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDue South Archive collection profile.





	The Cub

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

The Cub

**The Cub**

by JLS  
  
**Rated: G**  
  
This little vignette should fit into nearly anyone's scenario of Ben's  
future--those who's see him with Meg, or those who'd see him with  
someone else, since I never really specify Mrs. Fraser. Enjoy!  
  
***********************************************************************  
There were two of them playing and frolicking in the warm spring  
sunshine by the park bench, the adult wolf and the cub. Though a rare  
enough sight in Chicago, the wolf looked like any other you'd  
see--fluffy white fur and brown eyes.  
  
The cub, however, looked most unlike any other wolf cub you would see in  
National Geographic. For one thing, most wolf cubs are furry all  
over--they don't have hair merely on top of their heads. And wolf cubs,  
as a rule, do not wear pink overalls. And the barking of this particular  
cub had a peculiarly human timbre to it. But the adult wolf behaved  
around her as he would have around any youngster of his own species,  
yapping and roughhousing with her--gently, of course--beneath the  
watchful eye of the handsome, trim man in the red uniform on the park  
bench.   
  
The young woman passing by paused to look at the wolves' antics with a  
puzzled frown.   
  
"Sir," she inquired, "what kind of dog is that?"   
  
"They're wolves, ma'am," Benton Fraser replied. "Both of them." The  
woman caught the twinkle in his eye and decided to play along. "The big  
one is Diefenbaker, and the cub's name is Emily...Emily Caroline."  
  
"Well, hello to both of you," the woman said amiably, reaching down to  
pat them, her hand lingering a little longer on the cub's tumbled black  
mop. "And how old is this little cub?"  
  
"Tell the nice lady how old you are, Emily," Ben coaxed. She looked up  
and barked twice. "That's right--two years! And three months," he added  
for the sake of truthfulness.   
  
"Your...cub?" the lady asked, though it seemed obvious enough where the  
cub had gotten that coal-black hair and those merry blue eyes from.  
  
"Oh, yes, ma'am," Ben answered. "Though I must say Dief seems to think  
she's *his* cub. Her mother and I had more trouble when she was a  
newborn...he stood by that crib and protected it with his life, and  
growled if anyone but my wife or myself came near it. And when we'd put  
her down on her floor mat, he'd get on eye level with her and touch  
noses with her." He smiled at the memory, preserved in many photos and  
videos.   
  
"I bet you're not the slightest bit proud of her," the woman said with a  
smile, thinking back to her own husband's swift capitulation to their  
own she-cub. She was willing to bet this man, like her own husband, had  
made the requisite noises about A Son To Carry On The Name, then melted  
with surprising alacrity as soon as the tiny, delicate pink bundle was  
placed in his arms.   
  
"Oh, no, ma'am, not the slightest bit," Ben replied gently, his eyes  
brimming with love and pride as he watched the cub scamper on all fours  
around the woman's feet, thinking that there were few wolf cubs as  
pretty as a little porcelain doll.  
  
"Well, all my best to both of you...my alpha male and our cub are  
waiting," the woman said, giving the cub a last pat.  
  
"Thank you kindly, ma'am," Ben called after her. Then, grinning, he  
reached down and scooped up the cub, who shrieked and giggled as he  
tickled her. "Come here, you! You my cub? Huh? Are you my wolf cub?"  
  
Emily responded by licking Daddy's face. He held her off. "Human kisses,  
please," he admonished mildly. She obeyed, covering his face with  
enthusiastic little-girl kisses. "When's Mommy gonna get here?" she  
asked, forgetting for a moment that wolves do not talk.  
  
"I see her now," Ben told her, his heart leaping at the sight of his  
wife's familiar form headed for them across the park. "And when she gets  
here, we'll all go over Uncle Ray's for dinner."  
  
"Which Uncle Ray? The one with hair?"  
  
"No, the other one," Ben laughed.   
  
The cub sobered. "Is Gramma Vecchio gonna cook?" she asked, using the  
honorific that came to her as easily as "Uncle" Ray did.  
  
"Yes, princess," Ben answered, stifling a laugh. Ray was a pretty good  
cook, but his repertoire was a trifle inventive for the two-year-old  
palate. "I suppose wolves like lasagna?"  
  
The cub barked her enthusiastic assent.  
  
E-mail the author:  
  


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